


Micro-Fic dump 2

by aquatarius



Series: Micro Fic Dump [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sadstuck, Suicidal Thoughts, pale erisol - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4907365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatarius/pseuds/aquatarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another bunch of micro-fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Micro-Fic dump 2

(What a thing to say-And on my birthday!"

 

 “What a thing to say!” Miss Maryam glared up at her date for the evening. “And on my birthday!” 

  “Well, it’s the truth, ain’t it?” He snapped, scratching the back of his head. 

  “No, it’s not, I do not have  _gray hairs_ , mister Ampora.” She said. She crossed her arms and huffed. He huffed right back. 

  “They aren’t from age, darlin’. They’re from stress.”

  “Having to deal with you, anyone would have stress!” 

  “...I meant from having three teens in the house.”

  “Might as well have four, with you hanging around so often like you don’t have a  _mansion_  of your own.” 

  “I’m forty three.”

  “And have gray hair.”

  “I do not!” Mister Ampora sounded affronted by the assumption that he might have a gray hair. In truth he did have a few, but he’d never admit it. 

  “Oh please. I know for a fact that my two blonds and my brown haired children don’t use black hair dye.” Miss Maryam replied. Mister Ampora sputtered for a few moments.

  Then he huffed, and bent down to kiss her lips. She gasped and jerked her head back, face near on fire. It wasn’t as if he never did that, but it certainly surprised her. 

“...Well, that got you to quiet right down.” He said. She rolled her eyes and walked away. He grinned and trotted after. They still had a meal to eat. 

  “I still say you’re rude for saying something like that tonight of all nights. You’re paying.”

  “I-”

  “Not like you can’t afford it, mister C.E.O.” 

 

* * *

("You only heard his point of view, you never heard mine.")

Eridan paced the ship deck, growling softly. He was awaiting the return of his Moirail. The night before, Eridan had walked in on Sollux and Karkat curled up on a couch, papping each other and having a feelings jam. Karkat and Eridan had danced the pale line themselves, but up until now, Eridan had been sure that Karkat and Sollux were just friends. There had been yelling, and Eridan had half listened to Karkat explaining that it “Wasn’t what it looked like.” Eridan had left in a huff. 

Now, as Sollux landed on the ship, and snapped off his psionics, then approched, Eridan didn’t even turn to look. 

“W-well, if it ain’t-”

“E.A. pleathe jutht lithen. You’ve only heard hith point of view, you never athked mine.”

“W-well, I think it w-was pretty obvious!” Eridan snapped. 

“Yeah, probably. He wath having a flip out, and no one wath around to help, and I didn’t want him to run off and kill thomeone.”

“ _He_  didn’t seem to think that.” 

“yeah, well, I’d be thurprithed if he even knew how much he wath flipping out. Look, ath far ath he’th concerned, I wath emotional and needing thomeone to talk to.”

“But you were just doin’ it for the conman good,  _right?”_ The sarcasm in Eridan’s voice was thick. Sollux growled and walked around Eridan to look him in the face. He grabbed his scarf and jerked him down a little, shoving his face up. 

“No, I wath doing it for hith own good, and mine. Karkat ith my friend. That’th. It.” Sollux snarled. “Now you’re going to take me down and make up for the thtreth you’ve cauthed me.”

Eridan’s face heated slightly. 

“Take me now, Ampora.” The sarcasm was used by Sollux this time, and Eridan rolled his eyes, but wasted no time in picking him up and carrying him down to the pile in his ship. It was time to get his own shooshing on.  

 

* * *

(Pipe, tree, love.) [Humanstuck thingy, Victorian DualFang.)

Her dress is blue, and her hair bounces just perfectly as she swirls under the tree. You watch her, leaning against said tree and chuckle quietly. She turns and gives you this condescending grin, and snarks at you and you laugh, deep and rolling. She laughs, and then spins again. She’s sharp, and you know that her words can cut deep, but only if you let them.

  You take a lungful of air, your pipe hanging down at your knee, and wonder how you could’ve been lucky enough to get this woman.  This, beautiful, graceful, lovely, smart, amazing woman. Sometimes it’s like she reads your mind, knows just what you want and then gives it to you.

  You don’t know that you’ll lose her, soon enough, she’ll turn out to be with you for your money, and run off to smuggle stuff all up and down the coast lines, leaving you heart broken and actually broke. You don’t know that you’ll be hung for treason, soon enough. Even though it isn’t true, you’ll still be tried and convicted, because someone better pay for that woman’s crimes.

What you do know, is that she is beautiful, and she is yours, and you are so, so in love with her.  

 

 

* * *

  You knew this would happen. Of course you did, you’re a troll, she’s a human. Humans only live for so long, and they’re so fragile, like a low bloods. Of course a car crash would kill them.  You would’ve out lived her, even if this hadn’t happened. 

  She had a good life, as short as it was. You’re having trouble thinking about what made it so good, but  you’re having a lot of trouble doing anything that isn’t staring at the casket and the head stone that is the last thing to show you she existed. 

  You aren’t crying. Sea dwellers don’t cry for anyone, let alone some worthless little human who liked cats and pink too much. You hate cats. They get hair over everything. Others are crying. Dirk, Jane, Jake. Her best friends.  Worthless. All of them, worthless, land dwelling humans. You turn and walk away before they even put the casket in the hole where she’s going to spend the rest of her eternity. 

  When you get home, everything is normal. It’s normal, as it should be. The death of one little land dweller wouldn’t do anything to you. Wouldn’t make you upset, would change anything. You go to bed, you wake up, you work, you eat, you go to bed. It’s normal. 

  It’s exactly one month, half a perigee before you just snap. You look over at the television and get ready to snap at someone to turn off their video game, but it’s not on. There’s no one there, sitting with some stupid pink outfit on. There’s no one playing some stupid on line video game and screaming about defeating someone. There isn’t a cat to be seen, no sparkle or any moronic fanfiction about wizards. There’s nothing. 

Something snaps and you wail, your knees giving out. You slam onto them ground and you crush your glasses under one knee. You scream and scream  at the ground, violet streaming out of your eyes and splashing on the ground, mixing witht the blood that’s trickling out from your knee. You squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t see the hideous wand and glitter covered carpet she picked out and you scream, your pusher trying to break out of your chest. 

  You scream because you miss wizard hats and glitter. You scream because you miss bad take out. You scream because you miss horn rubs and feeling jams. You scream because you miss high heels and short skirts and goofy, pink hair and dark skin and you scream and scream and scream because you miss your moirail, your Roxy, you miss your best friend. 

You scream because Roxy Lalonde is dead and Eridan Ampora is broken. 

 

* * *

  ("Quick, hide behind the couch!)

“Well, mister smarty pants, maybe I wouldn’t have to wear a sweater if you didn’t keep it so cold in here!” Meulin chided her mate, Kurloz. He smiled and dipped his head, then signed. 

   _I like the temperature, sister._  He signed. she rolled her eyes, then giggled loudly, somewhat shrilly. 

  “Of course you do, you-” There was a bang as a the front door open. 

  “Hey, KURLOTHHH! Wanna play ekth-bokth!” Yelled Mituna. There was no question in his voice. He might have phrased it, ‘I’m playing on your x-box’ had he been in full control of his mental faculties. 

  Kurloz and Meulin exchanged looks. He would flip out if he found them alone and together. For really no other reason then that he was Mituna and being alone and together meant one thing and one thing only, in his mind. 

  Kurloz glanced around his living room, then grabbed his mate, and shoved her between the back of the couch and the wall. 

   _Hide here, kitty. I’ll get rid of him_. Kurloz signed. Meulin stuck out her tongue, a little insulted by being manhandled like that. She squished herself as deep between them as she could and then waited. 

Dispute what Kurloz said, he was unable to get rid of Mituna. When Mituna left nearly six hours later, Kurloz sheepishly pulled the couch away from the wall. Meulin was crouched, her eyes wide, and bristled. She hissed lowly at Kurloz, then launched herself at him with a yowl. 

  When Mituna came in a moment later, having forgotten his helmet, and saw Kurloz on his back and Meulin on his chest, there was no stopping him telling everyone what he thought he walked in on.

 

* * *

(You...You used me!) [tw for abuse, pale abuse, self harm, and suicidal thoughts.)

 Kurloz could almost see the strings. It was beautiful. Miraculous. Cronus stood with his back to the mime, arms spread out and body sagging slightly. No one cared to look at his eyes, but if they had, they would’ve seen the flickering purple that heralded voodoos. Not that anyone was even there to look. 

  Kurloz gently moved one of the hooks in Cronus’s mind. It was a delicate surgary. Not one thing could be missplaced, or Cronus’s mind might break. Such delicate things, minds. 

  Little by little, Cronus’s body straightened, and his arms lowered. He began to look almost normal, if a little bit limp.  Kurloz leaned forward and nuzzled the back of Cronus’s head. He doubt that people would be objecting to Cronus’s company soon. 

–

  Kurloz had been right. No one objected to Cronus joining in activities, and some had even started to strike up friendships, and most talked about how much better he had been. Kurloz was the only one who could feel and hear his ‘moirails’ pain at their ‘kind’ words. Many even congratulated Kurloz on how he’d been managing his moirail. 

  Kurloz was the only one who could hear Cronus scream. Sometimes, he’d take Cronus to a private place, and let him go to scream and cry. Cronus would dig his claws into his arms and legs and gills, and bit his hands and wrists and hit Kurloz. Kurloz would let him run out of steam, then slowly stroke down his spine and coddle and coo to his moirail.  By the time anyone began to wonder where Cronus was, Kurloz would already have him hooked. 

–

  “You…You used me.” Cronus spat. Kurloz was shaking his head, signing no, no, no, no I didn’t, you don’t understand, I was trying to help you, just listen to me.  

“Yes, yes, you did, you  _used_  me, formed me into your perfect little puppet. What ever you wanted, you forced me to be.” 

No, I was helping, everyone likes you, you’re all right now, I fixed you. 

“You broke me. I can’t feel my fingers. I don’t know what my own emotions are anymore.”

 I’ll tell you. Let me back in control. 

“I hate you.” 

Please. I’m sorry. Trust me. 

“Get away from me.” 

Let me fix you. 

“You broke me.”

I made you better. 

“You used me to make yourself feel better and pretend you could do anything worthwhile.”

I’m sorry. 

“Go. Away.”

No. 

–

  if anyone noticed the purple in Cronus’s eyes, they never said anything. It was so much easier to pretend that Cronus had just ‘gotten better.’ No one ever questioned what made him better. 


End file.
